


Land of the Blind

by cormallen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-31
Updated: 2006-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cormallen/pseuds/cormallen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thrilled to be the first one to figure out what to do with his egg, Cedric offers his help to all of the other champions in turn - for a price.<br/>Barty Crouch Jr (as Moody)/Cedric Diggory, Cedric/Fleur, Cedric/Viktor, Cedric/Cho, Cedric/Harry. Cynicism, voyerism, dub-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Land of the Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the triwizardfqf; beta by simons_flower.

"Tsk, tsk, Diggory. Clearly, you aren't interested in winning the second task -- or the Triwizard Tournament. Very well. This school still has a champion. I believe _he_ won't squander his chances so foolishly."

My wooden leg creaks angrily against its bindings as I stand, leaning heavily back in my chair. It had taken me days to learn a proper gait, and even longer to get used to the abhorrent clicking and tapping and the pain of scarred, tender flesh against wood as I walked, making this crippled remnant of a body my own. There is a certain pleasure in knowing that under all the twisted meat and gnarled bones, I remain whole and strong. There is a certain pleasure in knowing that under the sure skin and confident smile of the boy who stands in my office, confusion, fear and anxiety make their nest; his fingers clench and unclench reflexively behind his back.

He knows I see through him. He can sense me etching into the tiny cracks in his careful facade of white teeth, success and sharp cheekbones. I am leeching past the cocky grins and the shiny badge and the endless parade of friends, right into the cold, shivering center of him where he has nothing. Deep in that special, lonely spot, Cedric Diggory is just a Hufflepuff, and everyone knows what that lot's all about. He may be captain of his Quidditch team, he may be Prefect of his corridors, but like they say, _in the land of the blind..._ he knows the rest. Of course, they're a friendly bunch, never traveling alone, but with packs of mates and pals, because a whole lot of nobodies _almost_ adds up to a somebody. A Triwizard champion, that's almost a somebody all by himself, regardless of House. A Triwizard winner -- well, that's a great big somebody, especially for a boy from a village on the Otter river, small enough not to make it onto most maps.

We know all this, Cedric and I, and so he remakes his decision, spelling shut my office door, his grey eyes gone hard.

"You must be tired and hurting, Professor Moody. Why don't you sit back down - there you go - and let me take care of you."

He kneels in front of my chair -- oh, how he loathes being on his knees, even if it means standing just a smidgeon taller later -- and begins to unlace me. When his breath tickles across the head of my cock -- a scarred, bent root -- I allow myself a contented sigh. When his mouth closes around me, I begin to talk.

On his knees, pre-come dribbling onto his tongue, Cedric learns. His eyes are closed, and he moves perhaps a bit faster than I'd like, but I cannot blame him for counting the seconds in anticipation of the end. He learns about cost and humiliation commingled with strategy and victory, and he swallows it all without gagging, for which I allow him a little bonus.

"One more thing for when you get the egg open. You don't want to miss something -- someone -- ordinary. Make it a beauty, a brain, a talent -- you deserve nothing less."

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Later that night, I watch him in my foe-glass, which doesn't distinguish between enemies great and small. He has learned his lesson quite well; the blonde French girl laves him expertly with her little pink tongue as he breathily tells her how to cast a proper Bubblehead charm. As he pulls on her hair, making sure she dares not spit, I momentarily feel proud of Cedric -- and to a lesser extent, my teaching ability. Perhaps I ought to approach the boy with a consolation prize after he's the tournament runner-up and the Dark Lord has Potter. The Dark Lord and I could always use another apt pupil.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

"Why would you help me?" the Bulgarian asks suspiciously. "You want win, no?"

My little Hufflepuff prodigy pulls a bright, toothy grin out of his arsenal.

"Of course, I am _going_ to win. But I want that uppity Veela-want-to-be to come in last, not second. She's got a plan, and she's been practicing all evening. If you and I come in at the top on this one, we'll have the advantage in the last task -- and we'll go at it man to man, real sportsman-like. You don't want to be competing for the win with a girl or a child, do you? What kind of victory would that be? You could beat the fourth-year in your sleep, whereas I can provide you a real challenge. Besides," Cedric cocks his head, "I've seen you looking at me, Viktor. Let's combine the productive with the pleasant, shall we?"

The old man's cock may be past its peak, but it does what I want in my mangled fist, and I make my strokes hard and insistent. The boys are tangled together, a mess of hair and knees and moans, but I chuckle when I see it's only Cedric's hand around Viktor's prick, even as the latter reciprocates with lips, tongue and throat. Cedric's fingers move mechanically up and down, a regular lackluster wank, even as he slams his hips against Viktor's mouth for all he's worth.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

"You're so clever. I don't know what I'd do without you," he confesses in a toneless voice.

The girl is the same one he took to the Yule Ball, an excellent choice, pretty and popular yet studious, and, most importantly, not a Hufflepuff. She's not a Slytherin, of course; nothing to be done for it, as no Slytherin girl would ever involve herself with a boy wearing yellow and black robes.

"You're so sweet!" she squeaks enthusiastically, absolutely oblivious to the lack of sincerity in Cedric's voice, "want to try it again? Go ahead, on three."

On her count, he casts another Bubblehead charm over her flushed face. He doesn't need the practice, the spell is perfect, but he does need to spend time with her, enough to convince any tournament staff that he would never let anything happen to her.

"Thank you for helping me, Cho. I think I've got it now," Cedric says, following it up with a " _Finite Incantatem_ " and closing the distance between them. The girl blushes even more, waiting obediently for his arms to wrap around her small frame, for his mouth to land on hers.

After a few moments, he breaks off the kiss.

"Want to try something new?" he asks, pulling her hand to his trousers.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

"No such thing as free advice, Potter," he whispers, watching the boy emerge from the pool. Potter is toweling off, his little arse pink from the steamy heat of the bath.

"Need some more help, Harry?" Cedric inquires, taking Potter's towel from his hands.

"I... Cedric! You are naked.... I am naked! What are you... Oh fuck, what are you -- I didn't think you liked me... like that," Potter whispers, red-faced, as Cedric pulls away. "You are with Cho, and... and... I... you did this... thing, with the egg, all this, because you... like me?"

"Of course," Cedric hisses sinuously, wrapping himself around Potter like a nude, tanned serpent. "Of course I like you. I'm not in the habit of kissing people I don't like... catching them naked in the bath..."

The towel goes around Potter's shoulders, and Cedric holds both ends, trapping the boy's shivering body close. This is going beyond my lesson and into extra credit. There is a great huge gap between Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter, the boy from nowhere and the boy who lives in stolen glory, and Cedric knows that closing it is something he'll have to do again and again.

"I was so jealous of her," Potter mumbles, staring at Cedric's toes. "Why couldn't you just -- I don't know, just," he reaches out and strokes Cedric's chest tentatively, appreciatively, "just tell me?"

"I am telling you now, Harry," Cedric relents, and I cover the foe-glass with a piece of cloth, this part of my task well done.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

"The third task, Professor," he says, shutting my office door behind him. "I hear there's going to be a maze."

"Perhaps," I smile, well aware of the way the skin stretches and pulls across this mess of a face as my mouth opens. Cedric pays it no mind, his tongue circling his own lips.

"That leg must be such a bother, Professor Moody," he says, closing his eyes for a long moment, and when he opens them again, they are iron. "Perhaps you'd feel better if you took it off and relaxed for a while. Here, let me help you with that."


End file.
